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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

C laire pressed an ice pack to her bruised forearm. She rammed it against the unyielding desk in her scuffle with Ian. The hospital’s emergency room reception area was buzzing with activity. Ambulances came and went in a steady stream, paramedics rushing patients past the giant doors leading to the exam rooms. Half an hour ago, Ian was hurried threw those same doors, bleeding from a gunshot graze to the scalp. But he was alive. Claire was grateful.

Across the room, Gavin turned away from the coffee machine, holding two cups. His long strides ate up the distance between them. Butterflies rioted in Claire’s stomach. The man was a distraction she didn’t need but couldn’t escape. How was it possible they’d only been working together for several days? It felt like a lifetime.

He set the coffee cups on a nearby table. “How’s your arm?”

“It’s fine. Just bruised.” She tried for levity. “Remind me not to smash into any more desks, will you?”

His lips curved into a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Gavin’s strong fingers wrapped around her wrist. His palm was warm. He gently tugged the ice pack away from her elbow. His gaze swept over the injury, causing a burst of heat to blaze through her veins. “It’s swollen. Are you sure you don’t want to have that x-rayed?”

“I’m sure. It’ll be a wonderful shade of purple tomorrow, but I’ll survive.”

He didn’t release her wrist. Instead, he stepped closer, his gaze lifting to her face. An emotion she couldn’t quite place was buried in his eyes. It made her breath catch. The bustle of the room faded away.

“You scared me, Claire. That move isn’t one they teach in the academy. What on earth were you thinking?”

“Saving Ian’s life. It’s why we’re in this job, right? To protect people, even from themselves sometimes.”

He sighed, then leaned forward to brush his lips across her forehead. It was tender. Sweet. Claire leaned into the touch, wrapping her uninjured arm around his narrow waist. The familiar scent of his aftershave calmed her racing mind. Gavin’s lips brushed against her hair. The steady beat of his heart thumped against her ear.

Claire wanted to sink into his embrace and never let go. But that wasn’t possible. There was unfinished business between them. Now wasn’t the time to address it, but it had to be soon. Her heart couldn’t take much more of this.

She released Gavin under the guise of picking up her coffee. She took a sip and winced. “Yikes. They should put a warning sign on that machine. Drink this if you don’t want any stomach lining left.”

He arched his brows. “You’re spoiled by that fancy machine in the sheriff department’s break room.”

“Yes, I am. What’s the point of being in charge if I can’t have decent coffee?”

They both laughed. Through the large glass windows overlooking the parking lot, Claire spotted the mayor marching up the walkway to the entrance. Heather, Ian’s wife, hurried after him in sky-high heels. Her designer purse banged against her thigh.

Claire jutted her chin toward the door. “They’re here.”

Gavin turned, gaze narrowing. Claire straightened her uniform shirt. This conversation had to be handled carefully. If Ian’s accusation was correct, Mayor Patrick Scott was a killer. But they had no hard evidence implicating him. Claire needed to ask questions, but she didn’t want Patrick to realize he was a suspect. Not yet.

She also had to consider that Ian could be lying. He might’ve killed Stephanie after learning she’d accepted his father’s money. Love and hate were often two sides of the same coin, and betrayal could turn deadly.

The main door swished open. Patrick’s gaze swept the waiting room, zeroing in on Claire as she moved to intercept him. His face was flushed, his suit jacket hanging open, tie askew. “What on earth happened? Where is my son?”

Heather joined them. She was faintly out of breath, her shoulders turned inward, and complexion pale. “Is he all right?”

“Ian will be fine.” Claire pitched her voice low. “He’s suffered a minor injury, but should recover. He’s with the doctors now. Please come with me so we can discuss what happened.”

She led the way to a conference room. A large table took up the center of the room, surrounded by faux leather chairs. The scent of stale pizza lingered in the space. Claire waited for everyone to traipse inside, and then closed the door behind her. She took a deep breath. “Ian attempted to commit suicide.”

Heather sank into the nearest chair, hugging her purse to her chest. She appeared stunned.

Color rose in Patrick’s cheeks, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s preposterous. I will not tolerate you lying about my son. First that horrible newspaper article and now this.”

“Stop right there.” Gavin’s tone brooked no argument. “Claire isn’t lying. In fact, she saved your son’s life. You should be thanking her.”

Patrick’s mouth popped open and then shut again. His jaw worked. Heather placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “You have to forgive the mayor. He loves his son deeply, and this news is disturbing to us both. It’s difficult to wrap our minds around.”

“Heather’s right.” Patrick shook his head. “Why on earth would Ian attempt suicide?”

“He was distressed over Stephanie Madden’s murder.” Claire kept her attention locked on the mayor. “Are you aware, sir, that your son and Stephanie had a secret relationship?”

Heather paled further, but there was no flicker of surprise in her expression. She’d known about the relationship. Or at least suspected. Claire remembered Heather had been standing next to the mayor in the photograph taken at the campaign event. The same picture that caught Ian and Stephanie flirting.

Patrick stiffened slightly. “Yes, I was aware of their relationship, but they broke up before her death.”

“Ian says you paid Stephanie $100,000 dollars to leave town and never speak to him again. Is that true?”

Heather’s eyes widened, but she remained silent. Claire could practically see the wheels turning in her head. She was wondering where they were going with this.

“I did what was necessary to protect my son.” Patrick jutted up his chin. “Stephanie was after his money. I knew it from the beginning, but Ian was…foolish. He couldn’t see the wicked woman for what she truly was. Manipulative. I offered her cash, and she took it.”

“Hold on.” Gavin pitched forward. “You gave Stephanie $100,000 in cash ?”

“I did. The day before she left town, as a matter of fact.”

None of the money had been found, either in Stephanie’s vehicle nor at her house. Claire had spoken to her extended family members personally. Stephanie hadn’t owned much. Her bank account, at the time of her death, had three hundred dollars in it.

So what happened to the cash?

Patrick’s brow furrowed. “Sheriff King knew all about this. I told him myself. It’s part of the reason he believed Stephanie left town.”

Anger washed over Claire and it took everything inside her to keep from balling her hands into fists. Randy King purposefully left out pertinent information in his case file and when they spoke to him on his farm. To protect the Scott family. Claire wasn’t surprised—Sheriff King and Mayor Scott were old friends—but his decision infuriated her all the same. He’d put people’s lives at risk. Gavin’s. Her son’s.

She would deal with Randy King, but at the moment, Claire had bigger issues. She took a deep breath to temper her anger so it wouldn’t bleed into her voice. “When did you tell Ian about giving Stephanie the money?”

“After she left town.” His gaze skipped between Claire and Gavin. “I fail to see why these questions are relevant.”

“They’re trying to prove Ian murdered Stephanie.” Heather’s tone was hard. Her ruby lips flattened into a thin line and hatred seemed to seep from her pores as she stared Claire down.

A cold finger of doubt crept down Claire’s spine as a memory bubbled to the surface. Ian wasn’t the only one who lied about his relationship with Stephanie. Heather had too.

Patrick straightened. “I told you, my son had nothing to do with Stephanie’s murder.”

There was a ring of sincerity in his words. Patrick could be telling the truth. Or he could be protecting his son at any costs. It was time to hit the mayor with some evidence and see where that got her.

“Two years ago, about a week before Stephanie’s murder, you filed a police report notifying authorities that a handgun had been stolen from your home. We’ve found the weapon. Can you explain how it ended up buried with Stephanie in her car at the bottom of the lake?”

Patrick’s expression hardened, and he adjusted his suit jacket as if he was going to battle. “Clearly, there were details missing from the police report. That handgun was stored next to my bedside in an unlocked drawer. I noticed it missing after I had a campaign event in my home. Half of Fulton County attended. Anyone could’ve stolen it.”

Gavin’s brows arched. “A guest in your home went upstairs, into your bedroom, and stole a handgun? That’s very specific. Was anything else taken?”

“Some of my late wife’s jewelry. I don’t suppose you recovered any of that in Stephanie’s car?”

His tone was sarcastic, and it grated on Claire’s patience. This wasn’t a joke or a game. “The missing jewelry wasn’t listed among the stolen items.”

He shrugged. “The deputy must’ve forgotten to include it.”

“I’ve had enough of this.” Heather’s posture straightened as heat colored her cheeks. “Ian didn’t murder anyone and I can prove it. Sheriff, you believe the same person killed Stephanie and Faye. Well, we were all having dinner together—Ian, the mayor, and I—at my home on the night Faye died. My chef made salmon.”

Patrick placed a hand on Heather’s shoulder. “She’s right. Ian and I were speaking about our family’s grocery business for hours afterward. I was with him until well after midnight. Talk to the head housekeeper. She’ll tell you the same.” He arched a brow, as if challenging them to argue. “In the meantime, if you have any other questions, contact my attorney. We need to check on Ian.”

Heather rose. She gripped her bag with one hand. “Sheriff. Ranger Sterling.”

Patrick escorted his daughter-in-law to the door. He waited until she crossed over the threshold before turning back to face Claire. “Thank you for saving my son, Sheriff. You’ve done a good deed for my family today, so I’m going to give you a piece of advice. You’re skating a thin line. Don’t make an enemy of me. It won’t bode well for you.”

Beside her, Gavin stiffened. Claire held the mayor’s gaze, despite the tangle of dread curling in her stomach. “I told you when this case started, I will see it through to the end. No one—including you—will stop me from doing my job.”

Patrick’s glare could melt glaciers. He spun around and left the room, slamming the door behind him.